iWorry
by Pallas Cyrene
Summary: In which Freddie worries, and Sam sleeps.


**Disclaimer: ****I do not own iCarly... or anything else, really.**

**iWorry**

It was the sixth of October, and it was freezing. The sky was an odd shade, not quite gray, but not quite black. Either way, there was no way that anything could happen in this weather. At least, that was what Fredward Benson, otherwise known as Freddie, believed. In this case, as it happens, he was both right and wrong. Yes, nothing was going to happen, but the nothing would have nothing to do with the weather. Unless, of course, you believed, like Freddie's mom that any change of the weather could cause colds. In this case, as it happened, his mom was right. Almost the entire building was sick. Except, of course, Freddie.

To some people, this would be the chance of a lifetime. They could do anything they wanted, while the employees looked on, too sick to care.

But, for Freddie, whose day revolved around watching Carly, the sickness was a living hell.

And, to make things worse, they had a paper due. Usually, this was no problem, as Freddie had perfected the forgettable paper. He could write as many papers as necessary, while sounding just like everyone else, without, of course, sounding like he was copying anyone else. But now he was in a different boat. There were at least ten people absent, and his paper would have to be ten times better than usual. He also had a project due in the AV club, and it was up to him and Sam to plan out the next iCarly episode. All alone. Without Carly.

So, to sum it up, Freddie was having a bad day.

And that was before he even went over to Carly's.

It was hard enough to make it over. He had to make it past his mom, who was scared that he might "catch something" while he was over there, even though she herself was sick. After that, he had to get past the door, which, to his surprise, was locked. After knocking on the door for what seemed like a solid half hour, a half-dead Sam opened the door, then promptly laid back down on the sofa, and went back to sleep.

_Great,_ Freddie thought, annoyed. _It looks like it's all up to me. Just like usual._

So Freddie worked. And worked. And worked. And, of course, nothing got done. He tried and tried to come up with ideas for a new iCarly episode, but nothing he thought up seemed to be particularly brilliant. _Probably because my inspiration's gone, _Freddie thought, as an image of Carly came into his head. Finally, he gave up on the episode, trying to focus on his paper instead. He had a bit more success on the paper, but he still had to restart the paper at least five times.

Just as he was about to start on the sixth version of what he now called "The Never-ending Paper", a moan came from the couch.

Freddie looked up instinctively, and saw Sam writhing on the couch, muttering about evil, ham-eating donkeys and alien invasions.

Normally, Freddie didn't care what Sam did, as long it didn't end up with him getting hurt. But now he was half-asleep, and he found any talking to be mildly disturbing.

So he rushed over to the couch not really intending to do anything. He had an vague idea that maybe he could get Sam to stop thrashing around, but that was definitely impossible; even in her sleep, Sam would be stronger than he could ever be. Still, he grabbed her arm before she could hit him in the face, and was surprised at how hot her arm was.

"Sam?" Freddie asked quietly, trying not to startle her. He didn't want to get a fist in his face. "Sam, are you all right?"

When she didn't respond, except to yell something about demon monkeys, he cautiously felt her forehead.

Just before he can say something about the fever Sam must have, unless she's some kind of freakish alien like the ones that she's been muttering about, he realizes that Sam has opened her eyes.

She sucks in a ragged breath, then stares at him with feverish eyes, and yelps, "Water!"

Though a little surprised that she isn't begging for ham, he rushes to get her the water that she seems to desperately need. He finds a cup and fills it up quickly, a little too quickly in fact, as he gets water all over himself.

After he rushes back, Sam cracks her eyes open, and moans, "Thanks..."

He helps her to sit up and lifts the cup for her after she almost spills the water on herself. Finally, she lies back down, and is about to shut her eyes when she sees Freddie's shirt and laugh.

"What?" Freddie asks, instantly defensive.

"You've got water on your shirt!" She laughs as she drifts back off to sleep.

"When you get better, I swear I'm going to get your head examined," Freddie murmurs, sitting down on the opposite end of the couch. Maybe he'll watch some T.V., without his mom there to yell. It's quiet here. So quiet.

His last thought before he goes to sleep is, _Why didn't I stay with Carly? Another perfect opportunity missed! _

And then, he slept.

**Much, much later**

Sam woke up hours later. She took once glance at Freddie by her feet, and, through her fevered dreams, she smirked.

_That dork, _she thought happily, _has __**no **__idea what he's got coming to him. He's lucky that I liked him in the first place._

And then, she slept.

**The End**


End file.
